My Jonathan
by dyslecksec
Summary: To Lois Lane's dismay, Clark learned his painful lessons in love too well.  Clois.


**Title:** My Jonathan  
**Author:** dyslecksec  
**Spoilers:** Just the quote at the beginning from 'Fade'  
**Genre:** Future-vignette, Clois angst/drama  
**Disclaimer:** I only wish I owned this stuff.  
**Summary:** To Lois Lane's dismay, Clark learned his painful lessons in love too well.

**A/N:** This is unrelated to my other vignette, Doubt, in case there's any confusion. I also feel like I owe an apology to **Trisha**. She gave me the specifics of the quote, and then I go and do _this_. Sorry.

My gratitude and a nice slobbery Shelby-kiss to **katekeane** for her extremely valuable input.

~S~

**My Jonathan**

_See, what worries me is when  
My Jonathan finally does come around,  
I'll be looking the other way and  
I'll miss him completely._

~S~

The first time he asked me out on a date I'm now ashamed to admit I pretty much laughed in his face. The hot fudge and halibut analogy that I had first made so many years ago had immediately sprung to mind. He simply was not my type. I've always been attracted to the strong, confident sort. The ones that know where they've been, know where they're going, and how they're going to get there. But he was still the same naïve, hero complex, brooding, plaid-loving farmboy I recalled so well from my memorable days in Smallville. Of course, now you could add tweed-wearing, mild-mannered reporter to the mix.

Why would I be interested in that when my perfect man was hovering just over the edge of the Daily Planet's roof? Everything I wanted and more; let it be said that Lois Lane never settles for anything less than the best!

However, he didn't let that put him off. So it became something of a game between us. Every once in a while, he'd find a new way to ask, and I'd find a new way to dodge him or try and convince him he wasn't really interested in me, and I wasn't really interested in him in "that way". It was all OK. We still bantered back and forth, stayed up late working on our stories, and still got into heaps of trouble pursuing those same stories. I didn't really think too much of his consistent inquiries, I was having too much fun going on evening flights with Superman.

He asked nearly every day for while, but it eventually slowed to once a week, and then to once a month. Finally, some six months after our last round I looked up at him where he sat at his desk typing away. It had just occurred to me how long it had been since he'd last asked me out. I had the strangest feeling, like I'd forgotten something important, like it had just slipped out of reach. The feeling was confusing, so I pushed it away. Besides, Superman had stopped coming by for flights a few weeks ago and I was busy wracking my brain as to why.

When he introduced me to his girlfriend I was surprised. Ok, shocked more like. As far as I knew, he hadn't had a girlfriend since we were in college. Of course, he never spoke, and I never really asked, about the years he traveled the globe between college and coming to work at the Daily Planet. Behind the shock, however, I felt disappointment stab inexplicably deep past my heart into my stomach. I couldn't for the life of me put my finger on _why_ I felt that way. He was just Smallville; that dorky farmboy from Nowheresville, Kansas. So I simply smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and went back to my article about Superman's latest exploits.

A year later when he announced his engagement I was mystified. Sure she was pretty enough. But Smallville needed someone strong-willed and outgoing in order to keep him in line and save him from his brooding ways. He didn't need this vapid damsel in distress, there was no way she was good enough for him. He was too sweet, caring, and brave to be wasted on a bimbo like that. 'Oh well,' I said to myself, 'I guess his hero complex needs someone to save. It's his decision anyway, no matter how wrong she is for him.'

But now…now as I watch him pledge his life to another do I begin to understand. My heart is being squeezed by some invisible force, and my lungs are having trouble getting oxygen.

The priest speaks that line I always thought to be so ridiculous before, 'If anyone objects to this union, speak now, or forever hold your peace.'

I know I shouldn't, because I know it's too late and I have no right. I have no right to get in the way of their happiness because of my own blindness and folly. In a way, I'm proud of him. He didn't pine without end like he once did for Lana. To my sorrow, he picked himself up and moved on.

As the silence in the church stretches, the words I spoke to Martha Kent all those years ago come back to torment me with a vengeance. All this time I've been looking to the sky for a Greek god dressed in red and blue, when my Jonathan was standing beside me all the while.

I was so busy reaching for a fantasy, I missed my dream.

"I object!" I shout, "He's _my_ Jonathan, not hers!"

~S~

**A/N:** Go to my profile and see the story titled _What Worries Me_ for the sequel to this one.


End file.
